


Jonathan Sims, Class E

by Vernin



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archivist Jonathan Sims, Crossover, Gen, Mentioned Martin Blackwood, One Shot, Pre-MAG 159, Therapy, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vernin/pseuds/Vernin
Summary: Jonathan Sims goes to a therapy session with Joan Bright to try and cope with some of his trauma like a normal person. Fortunately for him, he might have found a person who actually believes him.
Relationships: Joan Bright & Jonathan Sims
Comments: 2
Kudos: 135





	Jonathan Sims, Class E

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like Jon needed to talk to process his trauma so I made him go to therapy. That’s it, that’s the whole story.

He had walked for approximately five minutes from the train to the building which had been the equivalent of five minutes of regret. He didn’t regret the act itself, but rather the problems he was sure would come if he decided to talk. If he spilled everything of what was on his mind, Jon was sure he would end up leaving the place, either in the back of an ambulance on his way to a mental institution, or in handcuffs. At this point he wasn’t sure which he’d rather prefer. 

The building was relatively small and the halls all the way up to the second floor were narrow and claustrophobic. The last room he entered was no bigger than a modest kitchen. There were a few wooden chairs placed alongside the wall, and a desk on the opposite side made from the same light brown material.  
He tried retuning the smile when the lady behind the counter glanced up at him, but he could feel it already begin to crack alongside the edges before he even got a chance to apply it properly.  
For some reason the act felt unnatural, but he figured it had to be due to the fact that it had just been a long time since he was saw someone who genuinely had something to smile about. 

He had barely sat down on the chair closest to the exit before the birch door beside the desk opened with a loud creek that echoed thorough the nearly empty room.  
For one abrupt second he felt every hair on his body rise, and images og dark, never ending corridors flashed in the back of his mind with such a fast rate that it made his vision blur. 

He knew that there would be nothing behind the door. And indeed, instead of an empty black tunnel, a woman with raven hair stepped out into the room.  
Jon wanted to kick himself. He tried gathering his thoughts, getting them organized and under control.  
He felt a wave of calmness wash over him, soothing his nerves a tiny bit as he stood up. 

"Sorry you had to wait, you must be Jonathan Sims.” She offered out a hand and he took it hesitantly, making sure his green sweater covered the nasty scars that ran along the back of his hand. They were not exactly a very pretty sight, and if he wasn’t so used to seeing them he would probably find them disgusting and highly disturbing. 

He swallowed. "Jon is fine.”

"I am Joan Bright, it’s nice to see you.”

———

"So, Jon, what made you decide to come here? You said when you made the appointment that you’d never considered therapy before. What made you change your mind?”  
They sat opposite each other with a small square table separating them. The chair he was sitting on was soft and delicate, but he couldn’t get himself to relax and lean back into it. Instead he ended up on the very edge with his feet planted solidly to the ground and hands folding neatly in his lap. 

"I- I found you mentioned in a statement…” His voice faded as he spoke, and the last words were imperceptible, even to him. He cleared his throat before starting anew.  
"Let's just say my worked conveniently guided me in your direction.” He said with a deep sigh. 

She leaned a few inches forwards him while hastily scribbling something down on a block of paper.  
"If you don't mind me asking, what do you work as? You mentioned when you called in for the appointment that it might be a key factor when looking at the source of your stress.” 

Jon looked down at his feet, trying to figure out how to explain this in a way that wouldn’t send her running in the opposite direction. It was enough horror in his life to pick and chose from, and frankly he didn’t think he would have the determination to go looking for a new therapist ten minutes in on his first session. 

“I work at the Magnus Institue in London. I go through and archive old statements.” He gave a self deprecating laugh.  
“I know how this must sound to you, what kind of stress could an archivist possible be under, but you’d be surprised by what sort of stories I manage to dig up.”  
Jon dared to glance upwards and if she was judging him, it didn’t show. 

“What is it about these statements that makes you so nervous? It seemed to me that you don’t really want to talk to talk about them.” Her voice was calm and he was grateful that she tried to keep him on track. It made it easier to focus. 

“Well for a starter they are not exactly what one would call ´normal´. The people who write to us experience weird or supernatural events in the worst way possible. In my time working in the archives I’ve heard more stories about people suffering and dying that I think anyone would consider healthy.”

The words came out before he could think. The realization made his stomach contact in dread.  
Joan met his eyes and he tried to play it off with a smile he knew instantly looked more like a cracked grimace.  
He watch her facial expression to see her reaction to the sentence, and to Jon’s surprise, she didn’t seem all that worried.  
He didn’t know why it soothed him the way it did, but there was some sort of comfort in knowing that there was a possibility she’d talked to other people with similar stories as him. And even though his experiences were his own, he was not entirely alone in feeling helpless and lost. 

The words that came out of her mouth were slow and calculated in a tone that Jon was way to familiar with. Being overly paranoid had it’s own way of showing no matter how hard you tried to hide it.  
Jon was not completely sure, but he thought he could sense something else in her voice, sloppily buried under the layer of suspicion. _Curiosity._

“You said you’ve heard about people dying?”  
It was not a question.  
“Yes?”  
It was not the answer she wanted. 

“If I may ask, how do you know that for sure?” Joan asked and scribbled something down. He couldn’t help the slight shift in his neck.  
“If there is a possibility for follow up on a statement, we do field research.” He hesitated. “And- I’ve seen some things…We have all seen some things…” 

“What things?” 

“Things that has a perfectly good reason for why it was hidden in the first place. Bad, bad stuff. If we’re lucky there is nothing to find on the scene of the- crime? Event? You know…the place where _it_ happened.” 

She nodded understandably. 

“At the beginning it was just stories. I thought it was just crazy people coming to us because they knew no body else would listen without calling some sort of authority on them, but I was wrong.”

“And those are the kind of stories you guys archive?” Her voice was soft, as to not sound too probing. Jon swallowed his words. He didn’t know how much further he could drag this before she decided he was just crazy and dismiss him. 

“It’s hard to explain.” She looked at him and smiled slightly.  
“Try. I am here to help you and it seems to me like you just need some time find the right words.”  
“Well, it’s not really easy to talk about things that can’t be explained in a logical way. Even I didn’t believe it at first, and by the time I started to realize what was going on it was too late.”  
He paused, and for a few seconds the room was completely silent. Joan was staring at him, urging him to continue without moving a muscle. 

“There are creatures out there that are not entirely human. They are called entities, and as far as we understand, they are the manifestation of fears.”  
He could see her wanting to ask questions, but that she kept the words back to let him speak.  
“My work at the institute is for the moment involves organizing the statements that feature human encounters with these creatures, not only limited to physical form.”

When he said it out loud it sounded insane. It was madness to just expose a word like that to someone who had no connections to either the entities or the institute. Someone who knew nothing a about this whole scenario that had been going on for, how long? Years? Decades? Maybe even from the very beginning of the universe, hell if he knew for sure. 

“Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I hadn’t said yes to the job.” His breath hitched as if this came as a surprise to him. And maybe it did. He had just spoken out loud something he had decided when the doubt first popped up to bury deep inside himself and forget. Of course he had known that it would surface eventually. The truth always did. It was just a surprise that today was the day. Just a normal, ordinary day in an ordinary scenario. It wasn’t forced out of him in any way he had simply decided to just _say it._  
It felt good. 

“If your work is causing you this much pain why can’t you quit? You must have more than enough qualifications to be able to get another job.” Her voice brought him back to reality and he chewed on her statement for a second. 

If it had one been that easy. To just _quit._

Why did the words taste so bitter on his mouth? The one word that symbolized the end of all their suffering. One word that taunted him with it’s mere existence, dangling just out of his reach, ripe with false promise of escape.  
It would be so easy to close the distance and grab it. Turn his back to everything and everyone not spearing the place another glance. It was simply unfair that it really was so easy, yet here he was. 

If he _could_ quit, would he do it? Turn away and forget about everything and go on with his life in a normal way. Forget about the institute, forget about Elias, forget about…Martin.  
No. Even if he could find a solution he would never be able to live with himself knowing he had just abandoned the few people he had left. And besides, there was no normal life for him to keep on living anyway. 

“My friend blinded herself to get out of that place.” He felt his throat tighten and he had to swallow a few times to prevent his mind from recollecting their conversation. “And I was even stupid enough to suggest we did the same. It’s the closes to quitting this job you get…” He gave a humorless laugh. 

The room went silent for a moment and he was able to count ten ticks from the clock on the wall in front of him before the next words were spoken. 

“How come?” her voice was low and concerned, but not the kind of concerned one would have for a patient they though would best belong in a mental institution. Instead, it held a warmth that would make even the best empath green with envy from security that oozed from her words. 

“If you only knew what it’s like. We all feel helpless and lost, and I know people who would have gladly jumped the chance to get out had they only known about it earlier.” 

Joan went silent in contemplation. Her eyes narrowing and then softening as if she took it all in. “That bad huh?”  
Jon hummed to himself. Something seemed to suddenly change in her demeanor. The notepad was lowered and then placed carefully down at the table. With a finger she adjusted it before folding her hands back on her lap. 

“Jon. I’m speaking to you as a person you can trust. As a friend that wants to help you.” She lowered her head just a bit. Enough to draw his attention. “So please tell me the truth. Why can’t you quit your job. What is really going on with the statements. What are you so afraid of.” 

———

It wasn’t easy. Jon had not excepted it to be, but he managed to get it all out in the end. Joan had sat though the whole thing, unmoving as if she didn’t want to miss a single word. Even when he went of rambling about nothing and everything she just sat there with a soothing smile. The time had passed so quick, but she had assured him it wasn’t going to be a problem. 

“Thank you Jon. It was very helpful.” She said carefully. 

———

“The thing is- I don’t think I am entirely human.” 

“What _do_ you think you are?”

“I don’t know…”

“A monster, demon, vessel of some sort? I have no idea. The only thing I know is that I am capable of doing things that should not be possible and lately it’s been harder and harder to retain control over it.”

“Do you mind sharing this ability with me?” 

He hesitated. It was usually not a good idea to tell people he could manipulate them with words. And even worst of an idea to tell them he didn’t have much control over it. But then again; he was already confessing and the pit could only go so deep before you no longer could see the bottom, and by that point you could just keep on digging in peace. 

“If this is what I suspect it to be, then I may know a thing or two that could greatly benefit you.” There was a new found energy in her voice. Like she had found a loose thread and wanted to know where it went. “Believe me when I say that this is something I can possible help you with.”

Jon bounced his leg. “Really?”  
She nodded. “I have specialized in researching and helping people with unusual abilities. In your case I believe it’s not entirely in my field of expertise, but it sounds close enough to an atypical event for me to treat it as such-”  
“Atypical?”  
“Yes. Someone who possesses a special and inhuman ability, sort of like yourself. But I won’t know for sure if you don’t tell me exactly what you can do.” 

There was a lot of facts he didn’t know about himself yet. A lot of dark corners that had yet to explore, but the thought of having someone who could help him explain what the hell was happening to him was like an un-hostile anomaly had answered his prayer. 

"Well the short story is that I ask about something and they tell me…What makes it bad is that I can’t _quit._ There is an ache. I feel it inside me like a hunger that can’t be satisfied by normal means and the only thing that helps is _fear._ ” His lungs felt out of breath, but in a good way. Like he had been unable to talk his whole life and now he was screaming at the top of his lungs. It was freeing.  
"I get people to tell me their deepest fears just by asking them to. That also mean I could ruin a persons life with less words than it takes someone to order a pizza.” He snickered, but there was no humor behind it. "I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. You must think I sound insane.”

"Nononono…it’s just-” She tried to assure him. "You power reminds me of someone else I know, that's all.” There was a small smile on her lips as if she was in deep though.  
Jon blinked in confusion. If she knew about someone like him it couldn’t mean anything good. What if that person had affiliations with the one of the entities. It would mean this whole thing was more wild spread than they had thought. 

“Can you tell me who it is?”  
“I’m afraid that goes against the patient confidentiality law.” Joans eyes flickered like one might see on a person lying, but he wasn’t going to question it. Still; Jon bit his lip, feeling the empty space deep inside him begin to stir with lust at the promise of sacred information.  
Before he knew it he opened his mouth again, but she beat him to it.  
“I can however tell you that if you fear the source of their power are the same as yours, then don’t worry. You are similar, but not the same.”

He breathed out relieved. Both due to the fact that he trusted she was telling the truth, and also about the fact she had not said who the patient was. 

“I’m happy to hear.”

———

Joan had been listening intent to what he had been saying. It was not unusual that ordinary people would find her, she was a qualified therapist of regular standards after all.  
When he had first walked in she had not expected any of _this._ At first glance Jon had looked like the average Joe, but the longer she looked at him the more she picked up on the signs that showed the events he described to her.  
The faint marks on his hands he tried to hide, but that climbed their way up his throat; the tired look in his eyes that had to come from more than just the lack of sleep. The signs were all there of a person who looked like he should be six feet under, not sitting and talking to her.  
Jon looked dead. And it was concerning. Like he was going to crumble to dust before her feet if he moved a little too quickly. 

“Can I ask you one last question?” They had been talking a long time. More than what a normal session usually entailed, but this was something entirely new for both of them and frankly it intrigued her. The human was funny that way. It got curious about things it know it shouldn’t, like a moth down to an open flame. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” He looked at her with a scowl. It was 

“Why _did_ you come here? You’ve told me, pretty much _everything_ except for _why_.” She blamed it on the curiosity, or her slight cockiness when it came to her confidence about _knowing_ people. There was a reason for why Jon had come here in the first place and she was not sure whether or not she would get another chance to ask. 

And suprisingly he told her. 

“I’m going away for a while. This may be my last chance to try out this whole therapy thing people have pestering me about.” He lifted his head. “It was nice. I think I am ready now.”

———

“Do you want to schedule a new appointment next week? It seemed to me like you really needed this.” She was being genuine about that. The stories he had come with had exceeded normal almost imminently after he’d decided to finally open up to her, and even though this wasn’t her normally routine she couldn’t justify turning him away and Joan guessed it would be hard to find someone else. 

Jon turned in the door with a hesitant look on his face. “No,” he said quickly. “No thank you.” He grimmanced.  
“Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciated this.”  
His eyes moved away from hers and she could see him actually smiling to himself. It was not the self deprecating smile he’d been giving himself throughout their session and it honestly made her think that something was terribly wrong until he spoke. 

“I’m going to get Martin back no matter what I’ll have to do.” He said it more to himself than to her. 

She didn’t need to ask who Martin was to understand the importance the sentence held. There was something strangely determined in his voice, and it seemed that Jon was aware of it’s presence as well.  
It was strange to hear him talk this way and she would very much like to get to know him better, but it seemed like that would have to wait for another time. Instead she returned the smile, trying to make it known that she understood.  
“Then I guess the only thing I can do is wish you good luck.”

Their eyes met, and for the first time their gaze looked onto each other without any of them wanting to pull away. 

“Thanks.” 

Then he turned and left. Walking straight towards the door giving a weak smile to Sarah behind the counter before disappearing. 

Joan wasn’t sure if she would see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was drafted after MAG episode 158 because I didn’t realize there was more to the season. I thought it was a cliffhanger so I wrote this…then the rest came out and I felt stupid. :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
